Here’s the Scrotum of the opera
Disguised as Jean Valjean
The boxcar he came outta
Spews X Rays on the lawn
The power of Christ compels him
To keep an eye on the Holy Land
In case things there go sour
Things you’d never understand
He says there’s no future
Just a soiled and ruptured past
The present is unsure
And we aren’t meant to last
That drowsy beast is slouching
But the Scrotum’s in the gym
So the beast turns left at Chunking
Away from Bethlehem
Author’s note: For the inspiration for the last verse I am indebted to WB Yeats’ 1919 poem “The Second Coming.”
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